


Robbing Lips & Kissing Banks

by orphan_account



Series: adventures on public transport [1]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Bottom Pete, D/s undertones, M/M, Oneshot, Smut, Top Patrick, petes a porn star
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-01
Updated: 2015-05-01
Packaged: 2018-03-26 15:15:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3855358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick definitely recognises the hot stranger on the bus from somewhere. Smut happens. This is the first time I've ever written a fic so sorry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Robbing Lips & Kissing Banks

**Author's Note:**

> just picture save rock & roll era Patrick and Pete, or late hiatus. 2012/13 is what I had in my head anyway so. enjoy the sin.

The bus ride home from work was probably the worst part of Patrick’s day. It wasn't like his job as a secretary was so great that he hated leaving, it was the fact that he most definitely recognised one of the other passengers from somewhere and he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Every single bus trip it would itch at the back of Patrick's mind annoyingly. This was only made worse by the fact that his job tired him out, but his brain could only focus on some guy instead of napping.  
The stranger had tan skin and tattoos, plus a stupid cocky smirk that he wore whenever he caught Patrick staring. It's not like he stared on purpose, but his mind would just drift away and lazily try to card through memories to try and remember where he recognised the guy from.  
Patrick's daily life didn't really leave a lot of room for smug, tattooed guys, and he vaguely wondered if he knew him from around the music scene in Chicago before he'd sold his soul and started working at a law firm. The man caught him looking again and winked, causing Patrick to duck his head and stare determinedly at the seat in front of him, trying to sort through his thoughts for some stupid pretty boy punk with nice eyes and tattoos.  
Patrick hopped off the bus still unsatisfied, mind buzzing uncomfortably as he unlocked the door to his house and loosened his tie. He was torn between jerking off and mindlessly watching TV, but after flicking through the channels for two minutes, he opened his laptop.  
He hadn't watched porn in what felt like an age, but he could remember one that used to be his favourite. It had been some independent project thing, because Patrick had heard horror stories about the main industry and didn't wanna contribute anything to that sort of abuse. The lighting in the video had been dim, obviously filmed on a fairly average camera and in a clandestine location, the star being some guy with tan skin and tattoos who was shoved into walls, a cocky smirk being wiped off his face and -  
The look of Patrick's eyes widening would've been comical had anybody else been there to see it. He searched through his internet history to find the video, and yep, that was definitely the guy from the bus having his mouth fucked, being slapped, looking up at the camera with wide brown eyes and ghosting a smirk across his lips before his mouth fell into a perfect 'o' shape and he moaned obscenely.  
Patrick was jerking off before he knew what he was doing, slamming his laptop shut after he finished. After about five minutes of telling himself that the guy wasn't even that good looking, he reopened his laptop and trawled the internet for more videos.  
It turned out the guy had his own website, and the name he used as an alias was Kingston. Patrick groaned aloud at the fact that he would have to see him on the bus again tomorrow, and considered calling in sick for work before realising he didn't actually have to act any differently. He could just catch the bus as normal and completely ignore the guy. He didn't have to risk his job just because he took the same bus as a porn star – albeit a pretty obscure one. He went to bed early to avoid having to think about it any further.

Work was boring as usual, boring enough that Patrick almost managed to forget about the Kingston guy. But as he waited at the bus stop, anxiety started to seep in. It's not he'd be able to tell that Patrick knew now, but it was the principle. He had seen this guy being fucked in the ass. Surely there would be some sort of way of the guy just _knowing_.  
The guy was always on the bus before Patrick got on, and today was no different. Patrick briefly wondered what this guy did every day to give him a similar schedule to Patrick, but pushed the thought away as he took a seat next to the window and felt the guy smirking at him.  
He had been determined to just ignore him, but now he could feel his face heating up and hear the guy chuckle lightly. He bit the inside of his cheek and continued to act interested in the scenery outside the window.  
The bus ride was uneventful. He alternated between staring out the window, staring at the seat in front of him, staring at his hands clasped in his lap. When he got off the bus, he felt eyes follow him. He ignored them and forced himself to not look around. Success.

The next day was due to be the same routine, and Patrick liked routine. He briefly glanced at the stranger as he stepped onto the bus and found his seat, but then assigned himself the task of staring determinedly ahead of him.  
This was successful for a little less than ten minutes. Then he felt the guy move from a few seats away to the seat right across from his. Patrick gave in and turned around to see the guy grinning mischievously and placing his head in his hands sweetly.  
Patrick willed his blush to go down, and stared at the guy defiantly.  
“Hello,” Patrick said cautiously when it seemed like the guy was content with just staring and smirking.  
The guy's grin got wider, somehow. His mouth seemed to large for his face, and his smile started at the corners of his eyes where crinkles appeared endearingly. It seemed so earnest, so different to the smirk he wore in the videos Patrick had watched.  
“Hello,” he replied, dark eyes scanning over Patrick before settling back into staring straight into his eyes.  
“Did you want something?” Patrick questioned briskly, staring back and trying to not look as anxious as he felt.  
“Why won't you stare at me anymore?” the guy asked in a whiny tone. “You used to stare at me every day, but now you're ignoring me, and I don't like it.”  
Patrick felt his blush creep back up around the back of his neck. “I don't stare at you,” he defended. “I don't even know you.”  
“Well, I'm Pete,” the guy said, rolling his eyes. “And you _do_ know me, I can tell from the way you stare at me. Which you do, by the way. You stare at me, and it's great, so why did you _stop?_ ”  
“I,” Patrick felt his mouth going dry. “I don't stare at you, cause I don't know you, at all. I've never seen you before. You just catch my bus.”  
Pete raised his eyebrows. “Listen, baby,” he sighed. “You _do_ stare at me, and it's cause I'm in porn and you recognised me, so just keep on staring. It's great.”  
Patrick flushed violently. “I've – I've never seen one of your videos. Ever.” he said, flustered. “I don't even watch porn. I've never – I've never even – I'm not even gay, I'm -”  
The bus slowed down and Patrick stood up quickly to cover his embarrassingly red face. He moved to the door, thanking god it was his stop.  
“I'll see you tomorrow!” Pete said cheerily, blowing a kiss. Patrick glared and stepped off the bus. As soon as he was in the house, his hand was in his pants.

Patrick got on the bus after work cautiously. He sat as far away from Pete as possible, but it didn't deter him. He just grinned and moved to sit beside Patrick.  
“You never told me your name.” he said expectantly.  
Patrick sighed. “It's Patrick,” he answered, hoping Pete would go away.  
“So how many of my videos have you seen, Patrick?” he asked sweetly.  
Patrick folded his arms. “None,” he said, glaring and refusing to look at Pete straight on.  
“Right, and you're not gay. Sorry, forgot.” Pete replied, grinning widely. “Your straightness explains how you knew right away that I was a gay porn star. Because you've never watched a gay porn ever, so it's totally logical to assume I was in one. Not one of the people in the many, many straight pornos you must've watched.” Pete paused to look at Patrick, who was bright red. “Oh wait, but you told me you'd never watched porn! Not ever!” he said, bouncing in the seat. “You're straight and probably Mormon or something. Of course. My bad, dude.”  
“Shut up,” Patrick hissed. “Okay, I'm gay and I watched a porn with you in it, happy?”  
Pete smirked. “Incredibly. So, you gonna keep staring at me now?”  
Patrick swallowed a lump in his throat and turned to face Pete properly. Pete was still wearing that cocky look, and Patrick wanted nothing more than to wipe it off.  
“It depends,” he said slowly, forcing his voice to stay low and even. “Are you gonna give me something to stare at?”  
The change in Pete's face was immediate – the smirk disappeared and his dark eyes went wide. Patrick smiled to himself smugly, but didn't take his eyes off Pete's as the bus slowed down. Patrick tapped at Pete's shoulder to get him to shift out of the seat so Patrick could get out, and Pete did without a word, just looking at Patrick with dopey brown eyes.  
“Bye, Pete.” Patrick said, congratulating himself on getting the guy to shut up.  
“Bye,” Pete replied, a little breathlessly.  
Patrick jerked off again as soon as he got inside, images of tan skin, tattoos and dark eyes flitting through his mind erratically. 

He was calmer stepping onto the bus this time. Pete beckoned to Patrick to take the seat beside him as he paid the driver.  
“How was work, honey?” Pete grinned in greeting as Patrick sat down.  
Patrick rolled his eyes. “Just fine baby, where've you been all day?” he said to continue the little game, looking at Pete confidently. Pete's eyes darkened a little at the pet name, but the grin remained.  
“My entire day just leads up to seeing you,” Pete said, fluttering his eyelashes comically. “That's the kind of boy I am.”  
Patrick huffed a laugh. “Good,” he said, purposefully dropping his gaze to Pete's mouth. “I prefer them obedient.”  
Pete's breath hitched in his throat, and he covered it with a nervous chuckle.  
“I was actually at work,” he said. “I have a job other than being pretty on camera, you know.”  
“Where do you work?” Patrick asked curiously.  
“Just at some hipster coffee shop,” Pete shrugged. “Everyone in there is so damn pretentious. At least there's no uniform except for the apron. Where do you have to work, with your fancy suit and tie?”  
“I'm a secretary at a law firm,” Patrick sighed. “And yes, it is as boring as it sounds.”  
Pete wrinkled his nose. “You could probably be a porn star if you wanted, you're hot enough,” he said honestly. “It's not like working at some dumb coffee shop pays all my bills anyway. There's no shame.”  
Patrick raised an eyebrow. “I think I'll pass.” he said.  
“But you've got a soul sucking job!” Pete insisted. “Hey, you can star in a video with me. That'll get views, definitely.”  
“No thanks,” Patrick replied smoothly. “If I wanted to fuck you, I'd do it without cameras.”  
“And, uh,” Pete said nervously, shifting in his seat and moving his hand to rest gently on Patrick's thigh. “Do you want to fuck me? Like, soon? Because honestly, you've been at staring at me on this bus for, like, forever and I'm getting kind of sick of waiting.”  
Patrick stared at Pete incredulously. Pete bit on his bottom lip in a practised move, lowering his head and staring up at Patrick from under his eyelashes.  
“Please?” he said sweetly. “I can be good.”  
Patrick thought _fuck it_ , and he leaned forward a few inches and covered Pete's mouth with his own before raising one hand up to cup Pete's jaw. Pete opened his mouth into the kiss eagerly and started to rub circles with his fingers on Patrick's thigh.  
“My stop,” Patrick said, pulling away as he felt the bus slowing down. “C'mon, c'mon,” he added intelligently, shoving Pete off the seat and grabbing his hand to drag him off the – thankfully – mostly empty bus.  
When they got into Patrick's house, Pete leaned lazily against the wall. “Nice place,” he said conversationally, before Patrick stepped forward and started kissing him again. Pete sighed happily into the kiss, and raised his arms to wrap them around Patrick's waist. He was stopped by Patrick pushing his body forward, holding Pete's hands back against the wall and controlling the kiss. He smirked at the soft sound Pete made and continued to map out his mouth with his tongue, occasionally biting at Pete's bottom lip.  
He felt Pete start to harden against him, and rubbed his thigh down against the other man's crotch as his cock started to become visible through his jeans. Pete gasped and tilted his head back, breaking the kiss. Patrick didn't mind, just kissed along the line of Pete's jaw and bit down his neck instead, trying to draw out more choked off gasps from his throat.  
“Patrick,” Pete said roughly. “Bed, do you have a fucking bed, because I swear to god -”  
Patrick rolled his eyes. “Of course I have a bed, idiot,” he said, licking quickly at a small red mark he'd left on Pete's neck. “It's upstairs, come on.”  
Pete followed Patrick up the staircase eagerly, pushing past when Patrick opened the door to his room, throwing himself onto the bed and pulling off his shoes. Patrick laughed and kicked his own shoes and socks off into a corner of the room.  
“Dude, you play guitar?” Pete said, gesturing at the guitar beside the bed. “What sort of music do you like?”  
“We are so not talking about that right now,” Patrick said, shrugging off his jacket then climbing over Pete on the bed and leaning down to kiss him again.  
Conversation on music obviously forgotten, Pete grabbed at Patrick's tie to pull him closer while Patrick tried to pull Pete's shirt off over his head. Pete eventually relaxed his grip on Patrick's shoulders and tie enough for Patrick to tug it off him, but as soon as it was gone Patrick grabbed Pete's wrists and pinned them above his head while he ground his own leg against the others cock, biting at his neck.  
“Fuck, these tattoos,” Patrick gasped out, moving down to mouth at the thorns around Pete's collar. Pete whined, unsure of whether to move his hips upward to meet Patrick's or sit up further to keep Patrick's mouth just under his pulse.  
“Like 'em?” Pete said, trying to keep his voice even but failing miserably. “I think they make me even prettier.”  
Patrick snorted and pressed a little harder down on Pete's wrists. “Keep these up.”  
Pete pretended to pout, but kept his arms above his head while Patrick let go and started to unbutton his own shirt and pull off his tie.  
He watched Patrick frown at the tattoos on one of his arms, and shifted to draw Patrick's attention back up to his face.  
“A Nightmare Before Christmas tattoo?” Patrick said incredulously, positioning himself so his thighs were over Pete's hips and he could rock down onto Pete's crotch. “For real?”  
Pete huffed as indignantly as he could when Patrick was leaning back over to hold his hands above his head. “I like Burton,” he said. “Sue me.”  
“You're ridiculous,” Patrick said, closing the space between them with a kiss and grinding his hips down. Pete's moan was muffled by Patrick's mouth, and he felt Patrick smirk into the kiss.  
“And you're totally getting off on it,” Pete countered when they broke apart. “So are you gonna actually touch my dick or do you wanna just make out until we come in our pants like teenagers?  
At that, Patrick took one hand away from Pete's wrists and splayed it on his lower abdomen, pale fingers contrasting against Pete's tan, inked skin. Pete arched up slightly into the touch, and Patrick's hand dipped lower until his thumb was rubbing at the waistband of Pete's jeans.  
“These jeans are stupidly tight,” he muttered to himself. “How do you breathe?”  
“It's sexy, fuck off.” Pete sniffed, letting Patrick continue to run his hand lazily over his stomach.  
“I didn't know asphyxiation was in this season,” Patrick said lightly.  
Pete started to laugh, but was cut short by Patrick finally opening Pete's fly and pulling his jeans down. Pete lifted his hips to help, and yeah, they kind of were unnecessarily tight. Patrick kissed and licked at Pete's hipbones and some ugly looking bat-heart-thing tattoo absent mindedly until the jeans were finally kicked to the floor, then Pete removed his hands from where they were still lying above his head to return the favour.  
Once they were both rocking against each other in just underwear, Pete managed to break away from Patrick's mouth for long enough to gasp out, “Condom, Patrick, please hurry up,”  
Patrick sat up on Pete's lap, purposefully making their cocks brush against each other through their boxers. Pete hissed through his teeth, and repeated, “Condom, fucking hell, I'm dying over here,”  
Patrick leaned over to reach his night stand, opening a drawer and retrieving a packet of condoms and a bottle of lube.  
“You're kind of needy,” Patrick muttered absently. “I can't tell if it's habit from being in pornos or if you're actually like that.”  
“I'm actually like that,” Pete clarified quickly, making grabbing motions at the lube. “I can prep myself, I'll look so pretty for you,”  
“No,” Patrick said forcefully, opening the cap on the bottle. “I wanna do it myself this time.”  
“There'll be another time?” asked Pete hopefully.  
Patrick kissed Pete quickly on the mouth and hummed, “If you're a good boy,” which caused Pete to moan quietly and push his upper body upwards for more contact. Patrick just laughed and drizzled a substantial amount of lube on his fingers, watching Pete with a satisfied grin.  
Patrick sat back on his thighs as Pete pulled off his boxers then spread his legs a little further apart in an obviously well practised movement. He leaned forwards to first kiss Pete's inner thigh, then press his index finger against Pete's hole. Pete huffed out a short breath of impatience that had barely left his throat before Patrick was working the rest of the finger in, teasingly running his other hand up behind Pete's balls and cupping them gently. The second finger slipped in quickly afterwards, and Pete started to moan as Patrick began to move his fingers.  
A third came in about twenty seconds later, then the room was full of the noise of Pete assuring Patrick that _oh my god yes he was ready so ready yes yes yes_ , even though they both knew that Patrick was well aware of the fact that it wasn't exactly the first time Pete had done this.  
Patrick pulled off his boxers with the hand that wasn't in Pete's ass, and flushed slightly at the way that Pete was unashamedly staring at his cock with glazed over eyes.  
“You're beautiful,” Pete breathed. “Are you gonna fuck me now? Please, _please_ , do it now, I need -”  
“Yeah, I get it,” Patrick smirked. “And you're beautiful too.” he added, a little softer.  
Pete smiled shyly up at him, which was a new look on him that Patrick quite liked. He spread some more lube over his dick, then he was lining himself up against Pete's entrance and pressing in.  
“Oh – fuck!” Pete groaned as Patrick pushed in slowly. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he continued to chant. Patrick was quickly figuring out that Pete was just plain noisy, so he bit down on Pete's collar bone hard in an attempt to shut him up. This only increased Pete's currently limited vocabulary of 'fuck' to 'Patrick, fuck', which Patrick figured he was just gonna have to deal with.  
Once Patrick was all the way inside, Pete turned his head to the side and breathed heavily against the pillow. Patrick waited patiently for him to adjust, alternating between rubbing at his hipbones and lightly brushing over his cock. Eventually, Pete gave a short nod and with that Patrick started to move slowly.  
Patrick watched as Pete's eyes slid shut and his mouth fell open into an o shape. Pete's hands automatically went down to touch himself, but Patrick stopped him gently, pushing his hands back up to rest where they were originally, above his head.  
“Open your eyes,” Patrick said softly against Pete's cheek. “Open them baby, I wanna see you, wanna watch your face,”  
Pete moaned at Patrick's voice and the use of the pet name, and opened his eyes slowly, watching Patrick cock slide slowly in and out of him.  
“Patrick,” Pete said, rolling his hips experimentally. “Patrick, Patrick, Patrick,”  
“Mm-hmm, I'm right here sugar, just tell me what you want.” Patrick said gently, alternating between kissing and licking around Pete's neck and collarbone in smooth, languid motions.  
“H-harder, please,” Pete whined, pushing his hands upward to grab the headboard behind him like he was afraid that unless he held onto something they would go back downwards to touch his cock again.  
“You want me to go harder?” Patrick asked, voice roughening. Pete nodded up at him eagerly.  
Patrick broke their slow rhythm suddenly by snapping his hips against Pete's, his cock hitting his prostate. Pete's pupils blew and Patrick looked at him smugly, quickening the pace and fucking into Pete more roughly than before.  
Pete continued his chant of _Patrick Patrick Patrick_ , and lifted a leg to wrap around Patrick's waist to improve the angle. Patrick grabbed at his thigh roughly, probably bruising it as he pushed himself deeper inside.  
“God,” Patrick said hoarsely. “You're so pretty. Good boy, so good for me.”  
It didn't look like Pete was even registering what Patrick was saying, he just kept repeating _Patrick fuck Patrick fuck Patrick_ , until it didn't sound like a phrase anymore, just a stream of noise.  
“G-gonna -” Pete managed to choke out.  
“No you're not,” Patrick replied sharply. “Not until I say you can. Understand?”  
Pete made a whining noise in the back of his throat, rolling his head back on the sweat damp pillow. Patrick dragged half his cock out of Pete slowly, breaking the rhythm they had. “Understand?” he repeated in a growl.  
Pete cried out and nodded vigorously, trying to wrap his legs tighter around Patrick's waist to keep him close. Patrick pressed himself back in, but now with each thrust he'd pull out a little further, causing Pete to pout and chase Patrick with his hips. Patrick noticed Pete's eyes starting to water, but he only gripped Pete's leg tighter and continued to hit his prostate with every other thrust.  
“Pete,” Patrick gasped out, his voice catching. “I –”  
“Yesyesyes,” Pete moaned, “Do it, please, oh my god just -”  
Patrick came, kissing up Pete's chest gently before he pulled out and started to stroke lazy circles around Pete's lower stomach. Pete groaned and lowered his hands once again to touch his own cock. Patrick glared at him sternly.  
“I didn't say you could, Pete,” he said, voice lilting and almost singing. Pete froze then slowly raised his arms back up, staring at Patrick with desperate, damp eyes.  
Patrick continued to rub absent circles, teasing around Pete's hips, tracing his tattoos and occasionally kissing his chest, tongue flicking over his nipples.  
“Patrick,” Pete said desperately. “Please,”  
Patrick raised an eyebrow. His orgasm had made him feel sleepy and warm, and he was half tempted to just curl up and deny Pete altogether. That would have to be a game for another time though, since Pete looked on the verge of tears and his cock was so hard it looked like it ached.  
“You can come, baby,” Patrick said, not removing his hand but leaning closer to whisper in Pete's ear. “Do it for me, now.”  
Pete's body shuddered, and Patrick appreciated the irony of the way that Pete came in complete silence, save for a choked off sob and soft moan of relief.  
“Patrick,” he murmured, curling up into a foetal position against Patrick chest and sighing contentedly. “Pete,” Patrick replied, still kind of in awe of how Pete looked when he came, mouth hung open wide and eyes staring at nothing and everything all at once. “Baby, I didn't even touch you, you just -”  
“Yeah,” Pete said dreamily. “So good, please don't leave me now.”  
Patrick chuckled softly into Pete's hair. “It's my house,” he pointed out. “So don't you leave either.”  
Pete nodded sleepily, burrowing further into Patrick's chest, hands skimming over his waist before curling around his neck gently.  
“I'm gonna get a towel,” Patrick said, wrinkling his nose at the sticky mess around him. “To clean you up. Okay?”  
Pete didn't respond, just hummed gently and sniffled when Patrick pulled away to get up.  
When Patrick returned with the damp cloth, Pete was already asleep and was making endearing snuffling noises against Patrick's pillow. Patrick smiled gently and dragged the towel across Pete's stomach as gently as possible as to not wake him, then crawled back into bed and fell asleep.


End file.
